People ask me, what was the hardest part about getting clean?
That’s easy. It’s the getting there.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, I watched a documentary on a musician who had a horrendous drug addiction. Damn near 30 years worth. Makes my 13 years of bullshit look like nothing.
Now - what was the hardest part to watch?
There’s a scene where he gets some hope, wants to clean up. (Granted he’s smoking crack while having the conversation). But he tells this indie record producer that if he smoked anymore crack or shot anymore heroin, he’d give him his record collection, (and it was a sweet record collection). He signed a written agreement to this, crack pipe in hand. In his eyes he wanted the dream, he wanted to get clean, but he still had a firm grip on his vice; literally.
Now, this is the part that made my skin crawl. My junkie brain went, “Oh fuck, what’s he going to do in an hour? He’s going to run out, come down and start fiending…” Mother fucker.
Because that’s the worst part. The doing; after the thought. The thought enters your brain, you relax. You feel relieved, it will all be over and you can be “normal”. Then the next thought occurs, (after you ingest whatever is left of what you’re doing), that you can NEVER do that shit again, you promised. Your brain goes into a tailspin. HOW?! What do you mean no more? How will you live? If the detox doesn’t kill you the boredom afterwards will and how does one have fun? What about the dependency? Surely you’ll have no fingernails left after you’ve scratched them down to nothing from clawing at the walls, your face, any surface that will have you.
Then you breath, clear your head of those nasty thoughts and call your dealer. Better get a few days worth.
Then it’s blown and in my case, quite literally.
It wasn’t until I was a inch from a toe tag, did I knock that shit off.
I took that plunge. Deleted all the dealer’s numbers out of my phone and any associated. Dug through all of my stash spots and flushed enough narcotics to kill a small dog down the toilet. A rainbow of pills, powder and weed. Don’t forget the Whiskey bottles draining in the sink and the packs of cigarettes in the trash.
Then I went into my bedroom, sat on the floor in the corner and waited for the sheer terror to unfold. Panic attacks, DT’s, (sweats, vomiting, delusions) and the feeling that the world was going to end. I tried to sleep, because once I woke up, it would be a while before that shit happened again.
And it stuck. Making the choice to quit all that shit and stick to it was the most difficult. The follow through seemed impossible and once I did it and mentally prepared myself for the mental and physical torture that was to come, I submitted to the Straight Edge way of life.
Having gone through that hell is what keeps me clean and the thought of the need to quit and going through all of that shit again makes me sick. Scares the shit out of me all over again. Makes me want to go sit back in that mother fucking corner and shake all over again. Never again will I put myself in that situation and my heart goes out to anyone that’s going through or has gone through that shit.
It’s by far the hardest mother fucking thing I’ve ever done. Hands down.
Buy Hi, Have You Met Me? on Amazon today! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B009W1M
Check out the blog on it's home site @
www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan
That’s easy. It’s the getting there.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, I watched a documentary on a musician who had a horrendous drug addiction. Damn near 30 years worth. Makes my 13 years of bullshit look like nothing.
Now - what was the hardest part to watch?
There’s a scene where he gets some hope, wants to clean up. (Granted he’s smoking crack while having the conversation). But he tells this indie record producer that if he smoked anymore crack or shot anymore heroin, he’d give him his record collection, (and it was a sweet record collection). He signed a written agreement to this, crack pipe in hand. In his eyes he wanted the dream, he wanted to get clean, but he still had a firm grip on his vice; literally.
Now, this is the part that made my skin crawl. My junkie brain went, “Oh fuck, what’s he going to do in an hour? He’s going to run out, come down and start fiending…” Mother fucker.
Because that’s the worst part. The doing; after the thought. The thought enters your brain, you relax. You feel relieved, it will all be over and you can be “normal”. Then the next thought occurs, (after you ingest whatever is left of what you’re doing), that you can NEVER do that shit again, you promised. Your brain goes into a tailspin. HOW?! What do you mean no more? How will you live? If the detox doesn’t kill you the boredom afterwards will and how does one have fun? What about the dependency? Surely you’ll have no fingernails left after you’ve scratched them down to nothing from clawing at the walls, your face, any surface that will have you.
Then you breath, clear your head of those nasty thoughts and call your dealer. Better get a few days worth.
Then it’s blown and in my case, quite literally.
It wasn’t until I was a inch from a toe tag, did I knock that shit off.
I took that plunge. Deleted all the dealer’s numbers out of my phone and any associated. Dug through all of my stash spots and flushed enough narcotics to kill a small dog down the toilet. A rainbow of pills, powder and weed. Don’t forget the Whiskey bottles draining in the sink and the packs of cigarettes in the trash.
Then I went into my bedroom, sat on the floor in the corner and waited for the sheer terror to unfold. Panic attacks, DT’s, (sweats, vomiting, delusions) and the feeling that the world was going to end. I tried to sleep, because once I woke up, it would be a while before that shit happened again.
And it stuck. Making the choice to quit all that shit and stick to it was the most difficult. The follow through seemed impossible and once I did it and mentally prepared myself for the mental and physical torture that was to come, I submitted to the Straight Edge way of life.
Having gone through that hell is what keeps me clean and the thought of the need to quit and going through all of that shit again makes me sick. Scares the shit out of me all over again. Makes me want to go sit back in that mother fucking corner and shake all over again. Never again will I put myself in that situation and my heart goes out to anyone that’s going through or has gone through that shit.
It’s by far the hardest mother fucking thing I’ve ever done. Hands down.
Buy Hi, Have You Met Me? on Amazon today! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B009W1M
Check out the blog on it's home site @
www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan